


Reunion

by sangueuk



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangueuk/pseuds/sangueuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the afterglow, Jim kisses Bones - PWP</p><p>Intriguing snippet: <i> An insatiably curious tongue explores McCoy’s hot mouth, running over bumps and ridges, the cut of teeth tickling, the build of saliva welcoming.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> un’beta’d comment!fic inspired by the gorgeous black and white kissing photos on jim_and_bones http://community.livejournal.com/jim_and_bones/327555.html?thread=11144323#t11144323

For some minutes they just lie there, hands interlinked, Jim sliding the top of his foot up and down McCoy’s shin, feeling breath hot and moist against his temple, the thud, thud of McCoy’s heart beating close to his.

It’s in moments like these, Jim thinks, _only_ these, when Bones _belongs_ to him; but it’s fleeting, he needs to savor it.

Jim eases out – his cock may be shrinking fast, in retreat as it loses interest, but his heart’s practically surging forward so, when McCoy’s legs loosen their grip and flop to the mattress, Jim climbs up the lean muscled body, his arms trembling a little as he tries to find somewhere to rest. Bones lets out a heavy sigh and shifts his ass to make room and Jim settles with his forearms across McCoy’s chest, his cheek against a rough jaw, the scent of their arousal heavy on sweat slick skin. He thinks dimly about the wash-cloth he should fetch, but that would involve moving, letting go, and Jim’s not quite ready to do that.

Jim lets out a long breath, pushes up on his elbows again, shifts a little so he’s lying half on the mattress and McCoy wriggles so they’re face to face. Jim runs a thumb across McCoy’s lower lip, and contemplates the still flushed cheeks, sweat matted hair and the furrowed brow. Questioning, forest green eyes scan Jim’s face, so Jim ‘answers’ McCoy by resting his lips against soft, bruised…fuck, _I just can’t get enough of you_ , he says with his tongue and teeth and low, huffy grunts into Bones’ mouth where no one can hear or tell.

“Jim,” McCoy grouches.

Jim licks along McCoy’s lower lip, experimentally tickling the corner of that beautiful mouth with just the tip of his tongue. Stubble roughs and scrapes the delicate skin round Jim’s nostrils as he shifts and searches for the best angle.

“No,” McCoy moan-grumps.

Fuck-blown eyes shine, but the eyebrows quirking signal the inevitable reversal; soon he’ll change from louche and easy, and revert to type, ‘normal’ Bones -- the man who’s an intoxicating mix of reluctance and acquiescence. But, for now at least, ‘no’ means ‘yes’, if the way McCoy’s lips part to let Jim in, is any indication.

“I can taste cum on your tongue,” Bones breathes finally.

“Well, whose fault is that?”

McCoy doesn’t answer, instead his head flops back on the edge of a pillow that’s worked itself up the headboard; his fingers in Jim’s hair to pull him close, guide their mouths together.

Bones often accuses Jim of wolfing his food - “No one’s going to take it away from you Jim -- slow the fuck down…” but, _I’m hungry,_ Jim thinks now, full but not satisfied, licking his way in, sucking Bones into himself, fighting to breathe in the crush of their tongues and teeth.

This isn’t about scratching an itch, Jim did that already, they both did, when two hours ago he’d dragged Bones into their quarters, yanked his pants half-way down his thighs and swallowed him whole. McCoy’s half-hearted protests, that he needed to shower after the shuttle flight, that Jim was an over-sexed asshole, soon gave way to incoherent groans and gasps.

Jim felt Bones still. He sat back on his haunches, pulled his mouth away with an obscene plop and, eyes locked with Bones, Jim dragged his fist once, twice over the spit-slick cock until Bones emptied himself over Jim’s face and jaw. Jim buried his face in McCoy’s groin, gripping him through the after shocks.

The second time’s had been less desperate; their initial awkwardness, always present when they’ve been apart for a few days and they’re first alone, long forgotten; the animal rutting from earlier replaced by a slower, calmer, less feverish re-connection - a reminder of what the hell this was all about, how _necessary_ it was.

 _We’re back,_ Jim thinks - together again. He’s savoring, tasting, claiming that non-resistant mouth, and Bones’ lips give way under nips and bites like over-ripe peach flesh.

Jim fans his fingers across skin which half a day ago tasted fresh air, that experienced things without _him_ and, as he touches McCoy on the outside, imprinting and marking, so Jim will worm his way inside too. An insatiably curious tongue explores McCoy’s hot mouth, running over bumps and ridges, the cut of teeth tickling, the build of saliva welcoming. Noses press, limbs tangle languidly and Jim closes his eyes, heightens his awareness of the huff of breath against his face, the way McCoy’s grip begins to tighten on his biceps, how McCoy’s hips unconsciously nudge forward again.

Jim pulls away, and his cock twitches when he takes in hooded eyes, bruised lips and thick, mussed eyebrows. Bones is wrecked, pliant, exhausted and beautiful in his satiety.

“You need a shower,” Jim smirks, “and I know you’re only the captain’s woman so you can make full use of the facilities.”

McCoy closes his eyes, rolls his head to the side and yawns. “Yeah, ‘s’why I put up with you, kid, nothing else in it for me—“

McCoy’s eyes flutter shut so Jim drops his face to McCoy’s shoulder, huffs into the salty skin, watches and waits for his grouchy lover’s breathing to even out.

Jim pulls the sheet up over them, runs his hand over McCoy’s hip through the sheet, wishing he could bend and twist those long limbs, rearrange this sleeping form into different positions so he can taste and touch and own. He waits until McCoy begins a gentle, irregular snoring, and presses a dry kiss to his slightly open mouth.

“Bones, you asleep?” he whispers.

There’s no answer, just another snort snore.

Jim pushes Bones onto his side then passes a few drowsy, fuck stoned minutes stitching his name and his feelings onto those plush lips.

When he’s done, and unable to keep his eyes open a minute longer, Jim tents the sheet, and shifts to press his ass into McCoy’s groin. He reaches back and guides McCoy’s arm till it’s warm and tight across his chest.

Even before the sheet’s fluttered down to shroud them, Jim’s dozed off to the almost imperceptible vibrations of the ship and the gentle swell and fall of Bones breathing behind him.

 

~END~


End file.
